


we'll never go out of style

by kathillards



Category: Power Rangers, Power Rangers Dino Charge
Genre: F/M, pre-super charge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 22:24:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5887609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathillards/pseuds/kathillards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I am a knight of Zandar. Of course I know how to dance." —- IvanKendall</p>
            </blockquote>





	we'll never go out of style

**Author's Note:**

  * For [advaevika (tabbersy)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=advaevika+%28tabbersy%29).



> happy birthday, jess!
> 
> this fic has been rolling around in my head for months, and i finally sat down to write it and it turned out to be a 7k ivan/kendall manifesto, go figure.
> 
> this takes place in the gap between dino charge and dino super charge, where the rangers are all scattered about. took some liberties with phillip's presence in the team. this is mostly humor and fluff, although the last scene does have some sexual content. very little though, i promise.
> 
> the song in the title doesn't really fit the story, but oh well.
> 
> hope you enjoy, and please leave a comment if you can!

**we'll never go out of style**

_'cause you got that james dean_  
_daydream look in your eyes_  
_and i got that red lip classic_  
_thing that you like_

— taylor swift, style

-:-

It's not like Ivan is her first choice.

Or her second choice.

Or, really, _any_ choice, but then again, she's looking between him and Koda, who is currently attempting to balance a skateboard on his head as he video chats with Chase while also stuffing his face with a Bronto burger.

Next to him, Ivan looks like a godsend.

Kendall sighs, and he glances at her, amused, as if he knows how much she hates what she's about to ask him. And he does -- she's certainly complained about the upcoming function the museum is hosting for some formal association of paleontologists coming to visit enough times in his earshot.

"I need one of you to go with me to the gala," she says carefully, adjusting her glasses. Ivan raises an eyebrow at her, then looks at Koda, who now has tomato sauce smeared down the front of his shirt as he regales Chase with a story involving two customers, mayonnaise, and a wild rabbit that got loose in the café.

"Well, the obvious choice is Koda," Ivan says amiably. Koda turns to look at him, cocking his head in confusion. More tomato sauce drips down from his burger onto his shirt and Ivan chuckles, reaching over to offer him a tissue.

Kendall rubs her forehead. "Ivan, please."

"I would be most happy to accompany you, Miss Morgan," Ivan grins, sketching her a bow. "You will, of course, have to explain what, exactly, that entails."

"You have to stand there and look pretty," she says sharply.

Ivan blinks. "Is that all?"

"Ivan is very pretty," Koda agrees cheerfully, pointing at Ivan to emphasize. Kendall tilts her head, unable to deny the point. Ivan smiles fondly at Koda and pats his shoulder. "When is ball?"

"This weekend," Kendall says, walking past the two of them to place her clipboard on the counter so she can look through her to-do list one more time. "Which means, Ivan, I'll need to get you fitted for a tux."

"What's a tux?" Ivan asks in alarm.

"God, I still need to get my dress," Kendall sighs, mentally running through her existing wardrobe to see if she has anything that she hasn’t already worn recently to a formal party. "I don't suppose you know how to dance?"

Ivan squints at her. "I am a knight of Zandar. Of course I know how to dance."

Kendall takes a moment to consider what she knows of medieval dancing practices and what their balls were like and compare them to the modern day. Ivan hums under his breath, watching Koda as he enthusiastically tells Chase all about his first time at a roller rink that Phillip had taken him to last weekend.

She figures he'll manage. "Okay, great. How about after your shift today, I'll take you shopping?"

"To the mall?" Ivan asks, face brightening with a smile. Kendall's mouth twitches to return the smile, but she clamps it down – she has too much work and not enough time. "That would be splendid."

"I go to mall, too!" Koda pipes up. Kendall trades a look with Ivan who only chuckles and shakes his head.

"Don't worry," he whispers to her, "I'll take care of him."

-:-

True to his word, Ivan figures out how to convince Koda that the television isn't something to be scared of, and by the time Kendall shows up to drive Ivan to the mall, he is happily ensconced in a beanbag chair in the base watching That 70's Show.

"How'd you pick that channel?" she asks out of curiosity as Ivan buckles himself into her passenger seat. "I didn't think you knew a lot about television."

"I know absolutely nothing about television except that you have somehow managed to imprison tiny people in that box," Ivan agrees. "But Phillip gave me the channel number. Apparently it's very popular over in Zandar, whatever it is."

Kendall smiles despite herself and backs out of the parking lot. The mall isn't very far, seeing how it's possible to ride there on horseback, but she still finds her fingers tapping on the wheel, wanting to fill the silence, no matter how short it is. If she were much of a radio person, she would have turned it on.

"Are you finally going to tell me what a tux is, then?" Ivan asks halfway through the five-minute drive, and when she glances at him out of the corner of her eye, his smile is warm and curious.

"It's just a suit," she explains, trying to focus on the road ahead instead of his smile. "Like the kind Phillip wears? It's meant for formal occasions, like a ball."

Ivan frowns at her. "Phillip's suits look rather uncomfortable, wouldn't you say?"

Kendall stifles a laugh. "Well, he makes it work. I have faith that you can, too."

"Whatever you say, Miss Morgan," Ivan says, though he still sounds dubious as she pulls into the parking lot of the mall. "I did not see a store that sold... tuxes last time I was here."

"Don't worry, I know where to go," Kendall says, parking the car and getting out. "Just follow me and don't get distracted by shiny things like Koda does."

Ivan raises his eyebrows at her. "Miss Morgan, I can't believe you doubt my ability to focus. Do you think you're speaking with Chase?"

She hates to admit it, but that surprises a laugh out of her as she walks through the entrance to the mall. When she glances sidelong at him, he seems exceptionally pleased with himself.

-:-

He does get a bit distracted by the toy stores, if only because they were advertising the new Star Wars movie and he thought the jedi figures were a sort of medieval knight, but she maneuvers him around to the department store after only a few bumps in the road.

"I'm expected to wear one of these?" Ivan asks skeptically, going through a rack of tuxedos in a variety of grays in the men's formal wear section of the store. "Do they not have anything..."

"Golden?" Kendall finishes wryly, spinning to hold up a gold tie at him. "What is it with you rangers and color-coding yourselves?"

Ivan takes the gold tie and admires it before grinning at her. "Might I remind you, Miss Morgan, that you are one of _us rangers_ now? And when are you going to start adding purple to _your_ wardrobe?"

"Whenever I decide to proclaim my secret identity for the world to see," Kendall says with a scoff, turning back around so he doesn't see her smile. "Why don't you pick one that looks like it's your size and then go try it out? We can deal with color schemes later."

Ivan sighs long-sufferingly and pulls out two suits to hold up to his body. "Which one, do you suppose?"

Kendall eyes them both critically. "Probably the gray one. But try them both just in case."

He nods and heads off to the nearby fitting rooms, leaving Kendall perusing the clothing racks, looking for something suitable for a museum gala until she hears him calling her name from inside the fitting room. Luckily, there's nobody around to stop her from going into the men's side, since the store is pretty empty and she doesn't see any employees anywhere aside from the cash registers either.

"Ivan, did you need help?" she asks, her heels clicking on the floor as she walks slowly down the fitting room aisle looking for the stall he's in. She swivels just in time to see his door opening and Ivan looking out at her from the largest stall at the end, the white dress shirt of his tuxedo open and loose around his shoulders.

"I can't figure out how this tie is supposed to work," he admits with a sheepish grin, holding up a black tie. "Does it go under the shirt or over?"

Kendall hesitates before accepting the tie, and he stands back to let her into the dressing room, which puts her in unfortunately close proximity to his bare chest. It's not that she's looking - much - it's just that he's _right there_ and his body heat is seeping into hers wherever they touch - as large as it is, the stall is still a fairly tiny space - and it's maybe getting a little hard to concentrate.

"Kendall?" he prompts, making her jump. There's a smile playing on his lips, almost amused, and she clears her throat to regain her sense of decorum.

"Right, uh, it goes over, but... let me show you," she says, keeping her voice as prim and professional as possible. "You need to button the shirt first."

"I don't like these buttons," Ivan says, making a face at her, and she hides a laugh by ducking her head. "They're much more slippery than the ones on my usual shirt."

"Your only shirt," she corrects, deftly buttoning up his shirt from the bottom. "You should really buy more, you know."

"I admit, I'm not the biggest fan of modern fashion," Ivan tells her. She chances a glance up, hoping to find him not looking at her, but he still very much is. Her fingers stumble, brushing against his skin, and she can feel his exhale in his chest. "But," he continues, his voice suddenly softer, "if you... wanted to help me find comfortable articles of clothing..."

"After this?" she asks, hoping her voice is steady, when he trails off. He doesn't reply immediately and she pauses halfway up his shirt to look up to see what he's thinking. His face is warm with a smile, but when she accidentally touches his bare chest beneath his shirt, she can feel him tense up.

"Yeah," he says, his voice low. "That would be... nice."

Kendall bites her lip and finishes buttoning his shirt as quickly as her suddenly-clumsy fingers can manage. "Sure. I have to shop for a dress for myself, too, so we can - do both at the same time."

Ivan grins, sweet and charming. It's suddenly very easy to see why he has so many girls - and some boys - fawning over him and asking him to wait their tables at the cafe all the time. Kendall steps back just enough to loop the tie around his shirt collar, which at least gives her some breathing room.

"You're a miracle worker, Miss Morgan," he says, watching as she knots the tie and slides it smoothly into place. Her cheeks warm, hopefully not enough to be noticeable, but she can't help returning his smile when she looks up at him.

"Don't forget the jacket," she says, taking it off the hook and handing it to him. Ivan grins at her and sweeps it around his shoulders, smoothing it down when it's on him properly. Kendall takes as many steps back as the fitting room stall will allow her, partly to survey how he looks in the tuxedo and partly to allow herself more space to breathe again.

"How do I look?" Ivan asks, striking a pose with his hands on his hips so he looks like Superman in a tux, not that he would understand that reference if she told him. He looks good, though, even if she has to muffle a laugh and reach forward to move his hands so they're holding his tie in a much more appropriate pose for the tuxedo.

"You look dashing," she tells him, and if his smiles brightens too much, well, it's not like he was her first choice, anyway.

-:-

Helping Ivan out of his clothes instead of into them is only a slightly less taxing ordeal, although it still involves a lot of being in his general vicinity while he's shirtless, which she's not sure she can handle much more of. By the end of it, he's found a tuxedo that fits and she wants nothing less than to escape the fitting room and never go back.

Luckily, he doesn't protest when she rushes them through the line and then out into the rest of the mall to finish their shopping, although he does say, "We should probably be getting back to Koda pretty soon. There's no telling what he'll do to the base while we're away."

"True," Kendall agrees, frowning at the thought. "Okay, I can shop for my dress another time, there's still a few days left till the gala. Did you want to get some t-shirts or something? You know, fill out your wardrobe a little bit?"

"Only if they're golden," Ivan says, grinning at her. Kendall rolls her eyes but she's smiling as she leads him into another store to find more casual everyday wear for him.

"Did Shelby not take you here when you went shopping with her?" she asks as he holds up a black t-shirt for inspection.

"I mostly let her drag me around to her favorite stores," he says, raising his eyebrows significantly at her. "As you can imagine, her taste slightly differs from yours."

"Indeed," Kendall says, rolling her eyes. "Where did she take you?"

"Some store that's only for people who are twenty-one years of age, apparently," Ivan says with a shrug, holding up another shirt, this one more of a yellow color, up next to the black. "Are you sure these are in... style?"

"They're t-shirts, they're always in style," Kendall says, laughing at his description of Forever 21. "Unless you're getting your fashion advice from Riley, who only wears sweater vests and plaid."

Ivan pauses for a moment. "What's plaid?"

-:-

Three shirts, two flannels, and one new pair of jeans later, she and Ivan head back to the museum where, thankfully, nothing too terrible has happened in her absence, although Koda has managed to break the television set again.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly when the two of them walk into the base. “It very loud.”

“Don’t worry, you should go get started on your night shift,” Kendall tells him, waving him off. Ivan claps him on the shoulder as Koda bounds off to his shift at the café, and it takes Kendall a moment too long to realize she’s inadvertantly left herself alone with him. Again.

“So…” Ivan says, a bit more awkwardly than she would expect from him, and Kendall looks up from pretending to survey her latest charger to find him watching her, his gaze warm and maybe a little nervous when he catches her eye.

“So,” she echoes, propping her foot against the lab station and leaning back. The clock ticks in the background. Ivan breaks the moment with a chuckle, stepping closer – not by much, but enough to make her jump minutely.

“Thank you,” he says carefully, earnestly, “for taking me shopping. It was – it was fun.”

Her mind swims with a memory of him in the dressing room, dragging his shirt off his shoulders, grinning at her, letting her button up his shirt and do his tie for him – she catches herself in time to offer him a small smile and say, “You’re welcome. I had fun, too.”

Ivan laughs a little, running a hand through his curls. “I know it can’t be easy, being stuck here with the two of us and helping us get used to the modern world.”

Kendall shrugs, looking down to fiddle with the controls on her station. “It’s easier with you – _you_ have a boatload of money for your ‘services to the crown of Zandar’.”

He chuckles, genuinely this time, and comes around to stand next to her, his shoulder barely brushing hers. “I suppose it pays to have friends in high places. Will Phillip be at the ball?”

“I should hope not,” Kendall snorts. “He did take our medieval exhibit from us. The museum sponsors still aren’t very happy about that.”

“He apologized!” Ivan protests, nudging her. “And he donated a lot of money to the museum, remember?”

Kendall smiles, shaking her head. “I think he said he’ll drop by next week, something about taking Koda bowling.”

Ivan stares at her for a moment. “If that’s anything like what it sounds like…”

“Yes, we’ll need to be ready to take someone to the hospital. Probably Phillip,” Kendall agrees. Ivan laughs, bumping her shoulder with his before swinging back around the station and towards the exit.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Morgan,” he says, tipping his head to her in half a bow. "Have a good night."

Kendall smiles, watching him leave the base, whistling as he goes. She's not quite sure why it feels like something significant happened today - it didn't, not really, just shopping, and she's been shopping plenty of times with him, with Koda, once even with Chase when he demanded she take him just to be fair even though he was perfectly capable of shopping by himself. It's not like anything _happened_ , not really.

Still, her fingers itch towards her phone, wanting to call someone - her sister, maybe Shelby, maybe one of her college friends, she hasn't decided, but it occurs that she has no idea what to say, anyway.

-:-

The day of the gala comes about in much hustle and bustle, with the museum bursting with energy and visitors, and by the time she meets Ivan in the base to walk up to the room where the party is being hosted together, she's almost completely forgotten about the mall.

Almost, but not quite. Not when Ivan shows up in front of her, in his black suit with the gold tie that she distinctly remembers showing to him in the department store, his clothes somehow perfectly ironed and pressed and his curls practically shiny from hair spray.

"Miss Morgan," he says, her name softening into a smile on his lips, his fingers adjusting his tie and walks towards her. "You look... positively radiant."

Kendall hopes the blush she's wearing covers up the warmth on her cheeks as her hands instinctively fly to smooth down her dress, the black silk soft beneath her touch. Ivan's gaze follows her hands, across her waist and hips where the dress hugs her curves, then jumps back up to her face, looking almost guilty for a moment.

“Thank you,” she says, flashing him a smile in return. He closes the distance between them to stand at her side and offers his arm. “You look very handsome yourself.”

Self-consciously, he lifts his other hand to touch his hair. “Phillip called and gave me some advice,” he admits to her with a chuckle as they begin walking, her hand laced through his arm. “Something called hair spray?”

“Yes, I imagine Phillip is very familiar with hair spray,” Kendall says, laughing a little, her heels clicking loudly on the floor of the museum. The noise of the gala room approaches, a buzz of chatter and laughter and the smells of wine and perfume reaching her. Ivan looks hesitant for a moment when they stop in front of the double door entrance.

"Are you okay?" Kendall asks in concern, dropping her hand down his arm to touch his fingers gently. "It's not that big a deal, really."

"No, I'm fine," Ivan insists, offering her a smile and squeezing her hand. "Just - had some memories, you know. Of before. After you," he adds, changing the subject before she can press him further and holding the door open for her.

Kendall looks at him in confusion, but his smile is fixed and she's already being called to greet the guests as she enters, so she puts it out of her mind. After all, the night is still young.

-:-

It takes her a while to get away from the other museum directors and saying hello to everybody's spouses and dancing with any age-appropriate guy who crosses paths with her, and she loses Ivan in the crowd for a good while.

She's down two glasses of champagne when she finds him talking to a pretty redhead girl - daughter of one of the museum directors for Los Angeles, if her memory serves her correctly - out on the edge of the dance floor, and she's giggling, so Kendall figures she shouldn't interrupt. Ivan looks up and catches her eye for just a moment, and his face brightens with a smile.

She almost smiles back before she gets whisked away by one of her museum assistants to meet a sponsor. When she glances back, she doesn’t find him anywhere.

“Looking for someone?” asks someone nearby, and she turns to find – she doesn’t know his name, but he’s the son of one of the members of the board of trustees. About her age, tall and blond, with far too much gel in his hair but otherwise a kind face. He kind of reminds her of Phillip. “You’re the director of the museum, right?”

“Oh, uh, yes,” Kendall says quickly, adjusting her glasses and trying to run through the list of guests in her head to pinpoint his name. “I’m Kendall Morgan, and you’re…”

He smiles and offers her his hand. “Adam McConnell, pleasure to meet you. My dad – ”

“He’s on the board of trustees, yes, I remember that part,” she says, shaking his hand. “Are you enjoying the gala?”

“Immeasurably,” he says dryly, and lifts his own almost-empty glass of champagne to her in a half-toast. “Was the open bar your idea?”

Kendall rolls her eyes. “I was persuaded by the employees.”

Adam grins and polishes off his glass in one gulp. “Well, I’m thankful. Would you like to dance? My dad is hoping to see me socialize tonight, and I’d hate to disappoint him.”

She holds in a sigh; it’s been an hour since she’s talked to Ivan or, really, anyone who can hold a conversation that’s not about funds and budgets, but it would be impolite to refuse, so she smiles and accepts his hand to lead her out onto the dance floor.

“You’re quite young for a museum director,” he muses as he settles one hand on her waist like they’re at prom or something. It takes some effort not to frown at him, which he must have noticed, because he amends quickly, “In a good way, I mean. The others are all in their thirties and forties.”

“You’re telling me,” Kendall mutters, and he laughs like she’s said something extremely funny. “I just worked hard,” she adds with a shrug, attempting to sway the absolute minimum amount to be considered dancing. “I love this museum, and being the director is the best job there is.”

Adam looks at her thoughtfully. “I wish I had that kind of drive,” he says. “My father is always on me about figuring out my passion in life, but he hates everything I try because it’s not professional or lucrative enough, and he keeps saying I should start working at a museum like him and make it a family business but – ”

“Excuse me.”

Kendall nearly sighs in relief at Ivan’s voice behind her, turning so she has an excuse not to focus on Adam and his attempts to convey his entire life story in the space of one dance. Ivan looks at her, then at Adam, almost questioningly. She doesn’t see any sign of the girl he’d been talking to earlier.

“May I have this dance?” Ivan asks, flashing her a smile, and she probably steps away from Adam a bit too quickly to be polite, but it’s not like anyone could blame her.

“I’ll see you around,” Adam says, looking a bit disgruntled, but he steps away easily and disappears back into the crowd.

Kendall feels a little bad, but Ivan sweeps her into his arms and spins them into the middle of the dance floor, and she forgets about Adam entirely in her surprise that he actually _is_ good at dancing. “You weren’t kidding when you said you knew how to dance,” she notes, impressed.

Ivan grins at her, pleased, adjusting his hands on her waist, fingers soft and intimate in a way none of her other dance partners’ had been. “Well, I must admit, Phillip did give me some pointers last time we talked so I wouldn’t completely embarrass myself. But I did attend quite a few balls in my day, and I figured you could use help with that,” he says, nodding his head to where Adam is standing. “Unless, of course, you were actually enjoying his company…?”

“Oh, no,” Kendall says quickly, shaking her head with a laugh. “I just agreed to be polite. He’s – he’s not my type.”

What possessed her to say _that_ , she doesn’t quite know, because her cheeks instantly warms when she realizes what she’s talking about and Ivan arches an eyebrow at her, the hint of an amused smile playing on his lips. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, instead taking one of her hands off his shoulder and spinning her around. She hasn’t had enough alcohol to be drunk, but her head feels the slightest bit dizzy from the motions and the champagne and the way he’s looking at her when he pulls her back in so they’re chest to chest.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Ivan says, the words rolling off his tongue slowly, “what _is_ your type?”

He’s smiling, and she kind of feels like melting. Her heart is hammering in her chest – it’s the lights, the music, the movements, anything else but _this_ – and there’s no way he can’t tell, not with how close they are, so close she can count his eyelashes, can feel every shift of his body against hers, can’t move without feeling him pressed against her –

“I – I don’t know,” Kendall murmurs, lost in the way he’s looking at her, holding her, dancing with her. His gaze flickers from her eyes to her lips; he looks almost disappointed for a moment before it vanishes. The music crescendoes and her stomach does a somersault. “I prefer brunettes.”

Ivan pauses. “Brunettes,” he repeats thoughtfully. Before she has time to recant it or pretend she wasn’t staring at him as she said it, he spins her again and then dips her down, her curls brushing the floor. His face is still close, so close – and she’s pretty sure this isn’t how the moves go, it’s not like this is a _waltz_ , god, people are probably staring – but then he pulls her back up and the music fades away into the beginnings of a new song and his hands slide off her waist.

“Thank you for the dance, my lady,” he says, back to his usual flair in a second, and sinks into a bow. “I would ask for another,” he adds, grinning at her, “but I do believe you have an admirer or two waiting for you.”

He nods his head behind her where, indeed, she immediately catches the eye of one of the assistants of another museum director who looks hopefuly for a dance. She sighs, turns back to say something – anything, she doesn’t know what – to Ivan, but he’s already gone.

-:-

She finds him half an hour later, when she’s too tired to dance anymore, sipping champagne in a corner. Or rather, attempting to sip champagne – he keeps making faces at it like it’s done something to offend him.

“If I may ask, what exactly is in these beverages?” Ivan asks when she approaches him, as nonchalantly as if the last time she’d seen him, he hadn’t been so close he could kiss her.

Kendall doesn’t know why she’s thinking about kissing him. “Alcohol,” she replies. “Well, modern-day alchohol, I guess it would be a little different than what you’re used to.”

Ivan looks at her skeptically over the glass. “I have had alcohol before, Miss Morgan. It does not taste like this.”

She smiles despite herself. “If you can’t stomach it, you don’t have to. I was just thinking about heading home.”

He grins. “Already? But you looked like you were having such fun, dancing with those gentlemen…”

Kendall rolls her eyes. “That was _not_ fun, and I can’t believe you _abandoned_ me – ” There’s a pause while he smiles down at her and she tries to remember why she’s _flirting_ with him. “Anyway,” she adds quickly, “I didn’t see _you_ on the dance floor with any of the girls you charmed tonight.”

Ivan raises an eyebrow at her. “You think I’ve been charming girls all night?” he asks, amused.

The thought had crossed her mind. “Haven’t you?” His other eyebrow joins the first; she can’t help the feeling that he finds this incredibly funny for some reason. “I saw you with that girl earlier, the redhead.”

“Ah.” He looks down at his glass, his mouth quirking like he’s hiding a laugh. “Not my type.”

 Kendall opens her mouth, then closes it. “You – ” He coughs over a snicker and she shoves him in the arm, unable to help the smile threatening to cross her face. Part of her wants to ask him what his type is, too, but the other part doesn’t think she’d be able to handle it if he looked at her the way he does and repeated her answer, so instead she says, “She was very pretty.”

He tilts his head. “Sometimes, I genuinely worry that you have me confused for Chase,” he says. “Do you think all it takes is a pretty face to enchant me?”

She grins, shaking curls out of her face. “I didn’t know you were so hard to _enchant_ ,” she teases.

Ivan chuckles, ducking his head, and doesn’t say anything for a moment. “I wouldn’t say I am,” he admits finally, his voice low and soft, his gaze sweeping up her body before it comes to rest on her face again. It’s not like her dress is revealing, but she can’t help but shift when he looks at her, feeling like her skin is on fire and everybody can see it. The tension lingers in the air, words failing her as the seconds tick by, until eventually, Ivan smiles at her again.

“We should get going?” he suggests, gesturing to the doorway. “Unless you wanted to stay…”

The last thing she wants to do is stay. “No, yeah, let’s go,” she says quickly. “I’ve already said goodbye to the other directors.”

“Well, then,” Ivan says, inclining his head in a half-bow and coming up grinning as he sweeps a hand outward. “After you, my lady.”

-:-

“Did you have fun tonight?” he asks her in the cab, where his voice is too soft or maybe it’s too loud, echoing in the darkened space where she thankfully can’t see his face but she can feel him across the seat, can hear every time his body moves, hates herself a little for being so hyper-aware of him.

Kendall exhales, looking down at her purse in her lap, even though she can’t see it. “Yeah, it was fun,” she replies, although she has no recollection of anything that happened tonight except for dancing with him. “How about you?”

There’s a smile in his voice that she can’t see when he says, “I had a splendid time. Thank you for inviting me,” as polite and proper as ever. It’s irritating how much his words warm her.

“Yes, well,” she says, laughing a little, “I couldn’t exactly bring Koda to a formal function.”

He pauses for a minute too long, just enough for her to start counting heartbeats, enough for the tension to rise again, before he says, “Is that the only reason?”

Kendall freezes in her seat; somehow, she’s sure he can tell. “What do you mean?” she asks carefully.

Ivan shakes his head, the motion rustling his jacket, and looks away, back out the window. “Nothing,” he says quickly. Too quickly. Kendall stares at him for a minute, his silhouette against the lights shining through the window, imagining his face, the emotions on it – Ivan’s never been one to hide how he feels, but under the cover of the darkness, she’s not sure what to make of it.

“Ivan,” she begins, with no idea of what to say next, but the cab driver pulls up next to their apartment complex and she has to stop to pay him and by the time she finishes that, the door on Ivan’s side is already closing. She steps out onto the sidewalk and manages two steps before her heels twist and she almost falls over.

At least, she would have fallen over, if Ivan wasn’t suddenly at her side to catch her. “Miss Morgan,” he says in concern, his arm around her waist steadying her as she regains her balance. “Are you all right? You haven’t had too much to drink?”

Kendall looks up at him, his face clear now under the golden glow of the streetlamps and the stars above, and the alcohol in her system starts buzzing in her head. “I only had two glasses,” she says, more to convince herself than him. “I’ll be fine.”

Ivan doesn’t remove his arm for a beat too long. “I’ll walk you up to your apartment,” he says as she carefully begins walking again. “Just in case.”

“Thanks,” she murmurs, too exhausted to argue – and too fond of his presence to want to argue, anyway. Her apartment isn’t too far, and the one Phillip’s renting for him is right across the way from hers, so it’s not like it’s an inconvenience for him. She fumbles with her keys for a moment before her door unlocks and he turns on the lights for her as she steps inside.

“Wow, you are… impressively tidy,” Ivan remarks, turning in a circle to look around her apartment, which is, indeed, impressively tidy, as he takes off his tuxedo jacket and drapes it over her couch. “Not that I thought you’d be any different, of course,” he adds with a grin over his shoulder at her as she sets her bag down on the kitchen counter.

Kendall snorts. “Why, thank you,” she says, leaning down to take her shoes off. “I think I’m gonna make some coffee or hot chocolate or something, you know, wash out all the hors d’oeuvres and champagne. You’re welcome to stay if you’d like.”

Ivan glances at her, almost flirtatiously. She realizes too late that if he has any idea of modern dating culture, he’ll know exactly what that sounds like, but all he says is, “Hot chocolate sounds wonderful. I never figured out how to use that coffee machine Shelby got for me, though.”

“You can flip burgers perfectly but you can’t make coffee?” she laughs, heading into her bedroom to change into something more comfortable.

“If you think my burgers are perfect, I feel like we should discuss a raise,” he calls through the hallway. She can’t see him, but she can imagine the grin on his face from the laughter in his voice, and it makes something jump inside her.

“Oh, so, _that_ part of modern society, you figured out quickly?” Kendall says, and he chuckles. A smile comes unbidden to her face as she stands in front of her mirror, listening to him wander around the living room. She reaches for the zipper on her dress and quickly realizes that she can’t get it to move, not with her reach.

For a second, she debates just forgetting about it and going back out to have hot chocolate without getting changed, but the dress feels like it’s gotten tighter over the evening, and she really doesn’t want to have to sit on the couch in a skirt that’s practically glued to her legs.

She inhales, then calls, “Ivan? Could you – could you come help me with this?”

“Help you with what?” he asks, walking over to her bedroom as she opens the door to let him in. Kendall gestures to the zipper on the back of her dress and Ivan’s face flickers with something – something else, before he masks it with a nod and steps into her room, the door swinging shut on its own behind him.

This suddenly feels like a mistake. Her bedroom isn’t small, but it’s not exactly large, either, and when Ivan stands behind her in front of the mirror to find the zipper, it feels like a completely different atmosphere than usual, something intimate and dangerous and – and –

He’s touching her again; she really should have thought this through after the dance. His fingers skim the black silk, soft on her back, one hand settling on her hip to steady her as he grasps the zipper and tugs gently. She holds her breath as it takes him three tries to get the zipper to agree with him and slowly pull it down her back. In the mirror, their eyes meet, and that something else in his gaze suddenly has a name that comes to her with a vengeance.

 _Desire_.

She nearly jumps when he touches bare skin, his fingers warm on her back right below her bra. The intensity of his gaze softens a little into amusement, but not enough to take away the tension rising in the air again. It takes her a minute too long to realize what’s given him pause.

“I knew you were lying about wearing purple,” Ivan murmurs, a grin playing on his lips, his thumb trailing up until it swipes the side of her bra, teasing but gentle nonetheless. A blush crawls up her neck, hot and pink and mortifying in its obviousness, and in any other circumstance, with anyone else, she would have pulled away.

But something keeps her rooted to the spot, her skin tingling wherever he’s touched it, her dress half off and slipping down her shoulders when she turns to look at him.

“I was _not_ ,” she says, but his face is so close, she can’t muster up any indignation, her voice probably too breathless to be taken seriously. His grin only widens. “I only said I wouldn’t make it obvious that I’m the purple ranger.”

“Mm,” Ivan says mock-thoughtfully, although she doesn’t miss the way his gaze drops down to her chest, the not-entirely-conservative neckline of her dress falling lower as her sleeves slide down, and she could bother to cover herself up but – he meets her eyes again and the look on his face is so breathtakingly intense, she doesn’t think she even has the presence of mind to pull her dress up.

“Ivan,” she says, and she’s going to say something else, she really is, she had it planned out – and then he kisses her and she forgets everything else entirely.

He kisses soft and sweet, going slow, but he splays his hand on her bare back and pulls her in close and it’s so much more sensual than any kiss she’s had in recent times before she even opens her mouth to deepen it. He catches her bottom lip between his and she nearly melts into his arms; everything about the way he’s touching her is making every inch of her skin tingle like she’s never been kissed before.

She presses closer, flush against him, her hands snaking up his chest and around his neck. Her dress falls down to her waist, but she has no spare thought to spend thinking about that, not when he’s kissing her like this, all fire and warmth and the culmination of a night’s worth of desire – and who knows how long before tonight, really – tumbling over into his motions.

It’s only when he gasps a little into the kiss, halfway to a groan, and pulls back that she realizes what she’s doing, practically half-naked and making out with her employee. The amount of space he puts between them isn’t a lot, but it’s enough to make sure they aren’t pressed up chest-to-chest anymore, and she realizes belatedly it’s because all she’s wearing is a bra.

“I’m sorry,” Ivan says hastily, though he doesn’t draw back any further and his hands linger on her hips. She thinks it might be easier for her if he stopped touching her, but the grand majority of her doesn’t want him to stop at all. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have – I shouldn’t be – ”

Kendall knows she should let him walk away, should watch him leave her room and pretend this never happened, should go back to normal, and if she made him, he would do it without a protest. It would be the smart thing to do; there’s nothing sensible about doing anything that she wants to do right now with him, not when he works for her, not when they work together on the same team, not when –

He pulls away and she finds her fingers curling in his shirt before she can stop herself, yanking him back, tugging him down into another kiss. Ivan’s surprised, “ _Oh_ ,” is muffled against her lips, and it takes him a moment to gather himself before he kisses her back properly, hands settling on her waist again, mouth opening into the kiss.

“Are you sure?” he breathes after several moments of kissing her, pausing to lean his forehead against hers so he can ask her a question that should really be answered with _no_. One of his buttons pops open beneath her fingers, allowing her more skin to touch. He’s warm under her hands, and his eyes close briefly when she opens another button and skims her fingers over his heart.

Kendall looks up at him, her breaths coming heavy and her eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, his chest rising and falling at the same uneven pace as hers, and says, “Yes.”

A grin crosses his face, bright and irrepressible, and it makes her giggle just watching him smile, the way his face lights up at the confirmation, until he swallows her laughter in a kiss so deep, she feels dizzy when it ends. Her fingers slide down his chest, deftly unbuttoning as she goes, watching the way his body shifts and reacts to her touch as he tilts his head to pepper kisses across her cheeks and down her jaw.

His tongue finds the sensitive spot between her neck and her shoulder before she finishes pulling his shirt off, and the sensation distracts her from the task for a moment. Ivan muffles a smile against her collarbone when she gasps, her cheeks heating up at the noise, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all as he sucks a kiss to the spot and then trails his lips back up the column of her throat.

“Where did you learn to kiss like this?” she demands, finally remembering to push his shirt off his shoulders and curling a hand around his neck to hold on as he lifts her up into his arms and over towards the bed.

“Hm, a knight doesn’t kiss and tell,” he teases, letting her fall down onto her bed before crawling on top of her and kissing her so softly, she thinks she might melt into the sheets. “By the way, I can’t help but notice – ”

“Yes, yes,” Kendall sighs, breaking the kiss so she can properly wriggle out of her dress and toss the damn thing to the side. “My bed sheets are purple, I am aware. I’ll have you know, I bought them way before I became the purple ranger.”

Ivan chuckles, though he doesn’t kiss her again, and it takes her a beat to realize he’s gazing at her – at her, half-naked, lying beneath him. “I suppose it’s destiny, then,” he murmurs, skimming one hand tentatively over her stomach, making her inhale sharply at the sensation. “That you ended up being purple in the end.”

“Yeah,” Kendall agrees, lifting one hand to touch his face, his head instinctively leaning into her palm, thinking about all the things that led her here, led him to this time, to her, and her to him. “Destiny.”

She might have said something else if he hadn’t ducked his head back down and kissed her again, so soundly that all thoughts of destiny and time and timing fly out of her mind for the rest of the night.


End file.
